Lament for a fallen Angel

When Islington began to get chichi, lifelong resident Francesca Hornak rejoiced. Now it’s ‘highly desirable’, she misses its shabby charm

The individuality of Essex Road and Upper Street, pictured, has given way first to trendy bars, then to big chains

This is a story about gentrification. Not the cruel, toxic side of
gentrification, but my own small, close-up experience of it. Having lived in
Islington, north London, since birth (1981), I’ve seen how the process
slowly dampens a borough, filing away any corners of character. And
realised, in hindsight, that I was complicit in the whole thing.

The story has three stages. Stage 1: the 1990s. I am a teenager living near
Highbury & Islington Tube. It’s an OK place to live. You can be at
Topshop Oxford Circus in 20 minutes, which is lucky, because the shops on
and around Upper Street are bor-ing. It has family-run delis, dry-cleaners
and florists, and a boutique called Diverse, way out of my price range. As
for Essex Road, Islington’s other main street, the shops are just weird —
notably the taxidermy emporium Get Stuffed.